Rolling The Dice
by Kishinigami
Summary: Mat Cauthon spends much of his time gambling and drinking. Why not follow him on one of his money gathering 'excursions'?


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Kishinigami's Note:  
  
This little piece was written over a period of about half an hour  
or so, so the writing's not the greatest, and I really have no real   
direction on this. I was simply inspired by this line from the card   
game Mat was playing with the Tairen nobles right before the bubble   
of evil attacks:  
  
"Mat wished he could have been down at the taverns, where quick  
hands and feet saved him, not the Dragon Reborn's protection."  
  
Well, it went something like that. If I get enough positive   
feedback on this little one-shot, I may continue it, so review  
this!  
  
  
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Rolling the Dice  
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Mat checked his glass of ale, and discovered, to his dismay, that   
it was getting empty. Signalling one of the passing serving girls,  
a young woman probably a year or two his junior with dark raven  
locks, dazzling blue eyes, and curves in all the right places, he   
turned back to the game of dice.  
  
He was winning, though he took that as a given. Casually sitting  
back in his chair, he felt that the pair of daggers he had in his  
sleeves were ready in a second's notice.  
  
Mat grinned at the approaching serving girl, tossing her a coin  
dug out of his coinpurse at random. He would have laughed at the  
look on her face as the gold Illianer coin landed in her hand,  
but he was already focused back on the game.  
  
A casual toss of the dice, negligently falling from his hand  
as he drained the dregs from his cup, turned up four fives and a   
six. Raising one eyebrow at the half-drunk sailor across from him,   
Mat scooped up the scattered coins on the table and slid them   
into his purse.  
  
"Another toss, or are you done for the evening?" Mat asked lazily,  
well aware of the clenching and unclenching of the man's fists,  
as well as the pair of sailors sitting behind him. He casually  
let the daggers concealed in his shirt fall into his hands as  
he leaned back in his chair a touch.  
  
If he guessed right, he was about to be attacked. Unfortunately  
for the sailors, they failed to notice he was ready and waiting  
for them.  
  
"You flaming cheater!" Lunging across the table, the act of which   
splashed a half-empty pitcher of what could generously be called   
wine all over Mat, the sailor tried to drive a long dagger through   
Mat's gut.  
  
Mat, however, was unwilling to go along with this man's plan, and  
smacked the sailor's arm aside with the flat of his dagger's blade,  
before driving a one of his daggers through the man's stout leather  
jerkin at the shoulder and leaving it, trapping him to the table,   
for the moment.  
  
It was enough, as Mat turned to face the bull charge of the other  
two men, parrying one's dagger thrust into one of the beams in  
the room, while snaking a foot out and sending the other sprawling  
onto the trapped man.  
  
All three were surprised by the quick counter long enough for Mat to   
deliver a stunning blow to the one standing sailor's face, before  
smashing a stout metal tankard, grabbed from a nearby table, over  
the man's head, denting the lead and sending the man to the floor,  
obviously unconscious.  
  
Mat turned in time to recieve a solid fist to the fact which sent  
him rolling under a table, scattering chairs everywhere and cutting  
his roll short as he slammed through one of the flimsier wooden  
chairs, smashing it into kindling and leaving him clutching his  
ribs.  
  
Mat groaned, shaking the cobwebs from his head, as the dice started  
rolling in his head.  
  
"Bloody perfect." Mat muttered. Grabbing one of the smashed table legs   
as he rolled to his left, under a table and away from the sailors, Mat   
frantically searched the rapidly-emptying bar for the remaining pair   
of assailants.  
  
One of them was still trying to free himself from the dagger trapping  
his jerkin, the angle to reach the dagger akward. The other was rushing   
Mat with his dagger, and bringing it down in a lightning fast stab.  
  
Mat brought the broken chairleg into the path of the falling dagger,   
and paled when the daggerpoint stopped mere inches from his throat,  
held only at bay by the force of Mat's weakening arms. Not wasting time   
in being shocked, Mat lashed his leg out, tripping the sailor and giving   
Mat enough time to scramble to his feet, pulling one of his many spare   
daggers from it's resting place in his boot.  
  
Quickly backpeddling, Mat found himself with his back to the wall,  
both of the remaining sailors on their feet, and advancing, daggers  
in hand.  
  
Mat wondered what the barkeeper was waiting for, when he realised  
that the man was standing back, unfazed by the violence, instead of  
reaching for a stout club, as Master Al'Vere would have been doing  
for any sort of violence. Fights must have been more common here than   
he'd originally thought, even if the common room had been cleared of   
all it's patrons and serving girls.  
  
Who, he realized, were standing outside and watching the entertainment.  
Just lovely.  
  
"Probably taking bets on who wins." Mat muttered, not taking his eyes  
off the sailors.  
  
He was in trouble, and he knew it. Two on one was hardly a fair fight,  
and now that he had a moment, he realised he was most positively  
drunk, not helped by the hammer of a fist one of the men had, both of  
which accounted for the cobwebs in his head.  
  
Mat desperately cast his eyes around for a second, and spotted a low  
stool near his feet. Grabbing a platter of food lying on a table,  
Mat hurled it with all his might at the pair, splattering cheap wine   
and stew all over the place, obscuring the line of vision between  
him and his opponents for the briefest second.  
  
It was all he needed, as he kicked the stool, which caught one of  
the men in the groin, sending him down hard. Mat met the remainder  
of the duo head on, parrying a few desperate knife thrusts and taking  
a shallow slash which ran along his ribs, before he relieved the man   
of his dagger, sending the small blade spiraling through the air,   
the man holding a deep gash on the top of his hand.  
  
Mat finished by bringing his dagger hilt to the man's forehead with  
all his strength, sending the man to the ground, limp as a sack of  
potatoes as his eyes rolled back into his skull.  
  
Mat turned to deal with the final assailant, who was climbing to his  
feet, looking ill-pleased with Mat's low blow with the kicked stool.  
  
His strength sapped, weariness nearly claiming him, and dizzy from   
the blow to the face, Mat only had time to reflexively hurl one of his  
daggers as the man charged, catching the surprised him in the shoulder  
and making the man stagger back.  
  
Mat charged into the man, knocking him to the ground, before finishing  
it with a vicious kick to the man's face. He wasn't entirely displeased   
to feel the man's jaw crunch under his boot.  
  
The fight done, and finally having a moment to breathe, Mat gathered his  
two daggers before slumping into a chair and motioning for the barkeep  
to come over.  
  
"Get me a pitcher of water. These three louts, if they've got money left,  
are paying for the bloody repairs, as well as my tab. Light! What's the  
world coming to when a man is nearly killed for being lucky at dice!" A   
little TOO lucky, Mat readily admitted to himself, but the barman didn't   
know it, and he didn't feel like telling the fellow. "And you may want  
to see to that one I got with my dagger. He's bleeding all over your  
nice floor, and I would'nt want your pretty maid to have to clean up  
the blood stains." This last was said for the black haired serving girl   
who was eyeing Mat with a shy kind of awe. For fun, he winked, causing a   
lovely rose colored hue to alight on each of her cheeks.  
  
As soon as the man had scuttled off, Mat groaned, feeling his ribs.   
While nothing appeared to be broken or even cracked, from that nasty   
little scuffle, he would certainly be feeling it in the morning,  
along with the nasty fist-shaped bruise he could feel developing on   
his left cheek, and he was fairly sure it was HIS blood which was  
running along the right side of his head.  
  
Almost as if on a cue, the patrons were coming back into the bar,   
some with slaps on the back for Mat, as they jangled purses which   
were notably heavier than when they'd left, while the majority   
eyed him in the same way that the sailors had.  
  
"Sorry for interupting your night!" Mat said, getting to his feet  
and standing on his chair as quickly as his battered body would allow.   
"As these unlucky louts are unconscious, and their purses much lighter,   
I feel I should have a celebration! A round of ale or wine to anyone   
who wants it, on me!"  
  
The sour looks many of them had on their faces improved immensely at  
this announcement, and at least the few who still might wish to relieve  
him of his earnings would have a pint more in them, which could mean  
the difference in a fight, if it came down to it.  
  
Mat sighed, grinning for the serving girl as she came with a pitcher  
of water and some bandages. The girl smiled shyly in return, asking  
Mat if he'd like her to treat his wounds.  
  
With a smile, Mat followed her into one of the store rooms.  
  
Slowly working off Mat's well-worn, if fancy shirt, the serving girl  
quickly began to poke and prod at Mat in various places, reminding  
him a little too much of Nynaeve's 'tender' mercies from when he lived  
in Edmond's Field, though he was fairly sure the bright red blush she  
wore was a change.  
  
Mat idly wondered if she could blush like that all over. He knew a  
few girls down on the east side of town...  
  
She quickly washed the shallow cut he'd recieved from the second  
sailor's dagger, pressing the bandage into place and quickly wrapping  
it. With the same wrap, she also tightened his ribs a bit, and he  
was surprised to feel that one of them actually FELT like it was  
cracked, afterall.  
  
When she began to poke around in his hair, all the while dabbing his  
face with a wet rag, he tried to pull back, thinking that she'd done   
more than enough already.  
  
"You silly man, hold still!" She hissed, motherly concern clear on her   
face, and the blush fading. Mat felt a little silly, considering the   
girl was clearly a year or two younger than he, but let it go. He didn't   
have much of a choice, really, considering he could barely struggle   
away to begin with.  
  
The fight had sapped his strength more than he'd thought, it appeared.  
  
When she'd picked through his hair enough to find and wash the gash  
he'd gotten, she seemed satisfied with her work, and began to help Mat  
back into his shirt.  
  
Mat grumbled a bit, though he didn't really hold it against her.   
Admittedly, when girls invited him into the back rooms of the Tavern,  
it was usually to take his clothes off and keep them off, but the  
girl, while nice, didn't really seem to be of that sort.  
  
Digging another coin out at random, Mat flipped it to her, though  
the throw was a touch feeble, to him. Mat almost cursed when he  
saw the size and coloring of it, but considering the girl had  
probably done what any Aes Sedai would have tied a string to him  
for, he considered it a very small price by comparison.  
  
By comparison, of course. A coin like that would have bought anything  
short of a farm back in Edmond's Field. A little voice told Mat he was   
a little too free with his money, but he quickly squashed it,   
considering the amount he usually brought in in a night of gambling  
covered five times what he'd given her already.  
  
Mat yawned, trying to suppress his tiredness, and failing miserably.  
  
"Sir, Master Balrik should have a room available. I'm sure he would  
not mind if you were to take it for the night." The girl suggested,  
a shy smile and the bright red of her cheeks bringing an unconscious  
grin to Mat's face.  
  
"That sounds like a great idea." Mat said around a yawn, trying to  
stifle the thing. He slowly got to his feet, and nearly tumbled to  
the ground. He would have, had the serving girl not been there to  
slip under his arm and give him some support. Mat grinned sheepishly.  
"Sorry about this. Usually I'm not the one in the middle of everything."  
  
The pair made their way out to the common room, where the barkeep was  
watching the second of the three sailors be dragged out of the Crying  
Widow to sleep off the results of the fight in the alleyway.  
  
"Master Balrik!" Mat called from the entrance to the storeroom,   
ignoring the jibes some of the bolder men made about his speed. The  
barkeep, seeing Mat's state, crossed over to the young man.  
  
"How can I help you, boy?" Balrik asked, crossing his arms and  
giving Mat an evil eye. As Mat looked at the scowling man, he  
realised he'd probably taken all their coin, leaving him to  
cover some of the damages.  
  
"I wish for a room tonight. I feel quite ill from the fight." Mat  
said, doing his best to make a bow. Hard to accomplish, with someone  
else holding you up and a broken rib besides, but Mat did his best.  
"I will cover the expenses of the damaged furniture tomorrow, if  
it pleases you."  
  
"Fine lad." Balrik chuckled, a slow smile coming to his face. "I  
was sure you would lose, and in fact lost a few silvers to Larin  
here." He shook his head, reaching under his leather apron and  
handing a small key to Mat. "We will discuss this mess in the morn,  
lad."  
  
Mat nodded, letting Larin lead him up the stairs and into the room,  
before he quickly collapsed on the bed, his eyes half-closing.  
  
He heard the door close as Larin left the room, and realised he  
should really get up and bolt it. Easier said than done, considering  
how tired he was, but Mat struggled to his feet and stumbled over  
to the door, sliding the bolt into place and turning the key on the  
lock.  
  
He quickly fell on the bed, and was asleep before he could climb  
under the covers.  
  
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Anyways, as I said before. If you want me to continue this piece of  
work, then let me know by posting a review! Otherwise, this will  
stand as the lovely little one piece it is. 


End file.
